Rich in Hope (Richness in Faith Trilogy Book 2)

by Lindi Peterson

  Maybe he’s dodging me. He probably doesn’t want to talk about what happened tonight. How I accepted his mom’s gift with tears slipping down my cheeks.

  They plan to spend Christmas here with us. Celebrating the birth of Jesus and our engagement.

  We used my shoot, Ann and Brett’s wedding, and Phoebe’s caroling party as excuses not to get together for the next couple of days. They said they had plenty of shopping to do anyway.

  Shopping. Christmas.

  I’ve been so focused on my miserable state that I haven’t thought of what time of the season it is. Unless I’ve been forced to.

  Nothing seems to be working out. Nothing seems to be coming together. Everything I touch falls apart.

  Grabbing the throw blanket, I sit on the couch. I tuck the blanket around me as I find a comfortable position. The festive lights dance around the tree, their tune unnamed.

  A stillness that should be healing lingers in the air. My soul should be soothed at the quietness, the time it has to bask alone.

  While I came here to be alone, my time has been occupied by a sweet little girl and a guy I can’t shake out of my mind.

  My SunKissed! line has been nothing but rain-kissed at the moment.

  RainKissed?

  Slickers, umbrellas, rain boots of all colors and styles flash into my mind. That’s it.

  My break.

  Kissed!

  I’ll brand myself with Kissed! and all the clothes will belong to a specific line. SunKissed! RainKissed! RomanceKissed! SportKissed!

  I fling the blanket off and race to my room, grab my sketch pad and pencils, and sit on the bed.

  Flipping to an empty page I write the word RainKissed! The bold, blue letters instantly remind me of the necklace Stephen’s mom gave me.

  Will I ever look at anything without having some part of Stephen and who he is invade my thought process?

  Grabbing the gray pencil, I place a star on top of the “i” in the rain part of the word RainKissed! and shade it with my white pencil.

  Beyond excited, I almost can’t contain myself.

  Maybe Stephen was right when he said we were supposed to be here for a reason. He and I.

  Could this God thing be real? Could God orchestrate people’s paths so they will cross and change the course of someone’s life?

  “There you are.” Stephen’s voice startles me.

  He’s standing in the doorway to my room, reminding me of the first day we met. When he was barely clothed.

  He’s fully clothed right now, yet no less attractive. The blue slacks and white dress shirt he wore to dinner fit him perfectly.

  Looking good is something Stephen Day does naturally.

  “Working?” he asks.

  “Yes. I think I’m really onto something.”

  He steps into the room. “Do you mind if I look?”

  I shrug my shoulders as he sits on the edge of the bed. “There’s nothing much to see right now.”

  Turning the sketch pad toward him, I smile.

  “That star looks familiar,” he says, pointing to the dotted “i”.

  Embarrassed, I look away from him.

  “Look at me,” he whispers.

  As I turn my head, he takes the sketch pad and pencil out of my hands and places them on the floor.

  “I know that tonight was hard on you.” His hand brushes back my hair as he speaks.

  “This has become so out of control. I really never thought when I uttered those words to your boss that we would be here now. This huge ring on my finger, your mom’s prized possession on my dresser waiting for our wedding day. I never envisioned this. Never.”

  “When I boarded that plane in Zaunesia I never imagined something like this happening. I thought I was destined to spend a quiet holiday in my house by myself.”

  He takes my hands into his, reminding me of his mom at the restaurant. One thing is for sure regarding Stephen. It feels natural to be around him. I don’t flinch when he touches me anymore. It’s like I need to be touched by him.

  Dare I think, even for a moment, that I was created to be with him?

  I’ve never been drawn this much to someone this fast. Maybe it’s because I’ve heard of him off and on from Katherine, but my soul feels like it knows his soul. Like my soul is really only half a soul and he possesses the other half.

  If I voice any of these thoughts, I know he’ll think I’m way out there.

  But while I don’t want to throw myself at him, a part of me wants him to know that I feel a connection with him that supersedes any feeling I’ve ever had for a guy before.

  Jeff is a distant memory. I can barely remember what he looks like in the presence of someone like Stephen.

  “You’re hardly by yourself at all. Between me and Phoebe and the plethora of guests that have popped in and out, the house has been full of people,” I say.

  “For a guy like me, who’d rather be in the wilderness surrounded by trees, being around people can become a bit overwhelming.”

  Looking at him I wonder if I’ll ever become used to his handsome face. Not that I’m going to be around him that much longer. “After tonight you have to believe me when I say to you I’m sorry. I’m sorry for all the trouble I’ve caused. I’m sorry for the hurt feelings that I think are going to happen when we announce our breakup.”

  “We both are to blame. I could have easily told my parents tonight what was going on. In fact, the closer we got to the restaurant the more I had made up my mind to do just that.”

  “What happened?” I think of my thoughts in the bathroom, about giving the ring back, but I push them away. For a little while, anyway.

  “I can’t explain it. Watching you carry yourself with grace, nurturing Phoebe at the table. It came to my attention you are what I would want in a wife. I guess I got carried away on that dream. Every time I opened my mouth to tell my parents the truth, some other thought always took over.”

  While I like him saying I’m what he would want in a wife, I also realize we aren’t really getting married.

  My gaze catches the corner of my sketch pad on the floor by Stephen’s feet. Stephen who has the ability to switch my focus to him, no matter the situation.

  “Just two more days,” I say. “Then we can have the biggest breakup in the history of breakups.”

  He taps me on the nose. “You’re certainly a mean girl breaking up with me right before Christmas. Heartless.”

  “I think you’re the heartless one, teasing me with this ring. Introducing me to your family. All the while knowing none of this is real.”

  “That’s not true. Some of this is unbelievably real.”

  “Like what?”

  His fingers caress my hair. “Your soft hair. And your even softer lips.”

  Giving me no time to respond, his lips touch mine in what starts out as a soft kiss. This attention Stephen gives me fuels my belief that I’m beautiful again in some way.

  I stop our kiss but hold onto his shoulders as I scoot further back on the bed. I pull him down with me, ignoring the slight pain of my sunburned arms as I rest in the softness of the bed. His lips capture mine in a kiss that says this is more than a kiss.

  Kisses like this lead to other boundaries being broken. Boundaries I thought no man would ever want to break again.

  His lips have left mine but have continued to rain kisses along my jaw, down my neck. The same path his finger took the first day I met him.

  “I need to be careful,” he says. “I don’t want to touch your sunburn.”

  Should I tell him that in the presence of his kisses my sunburn feels nonexistent?

  “So I’ll unbutton your shirt very carefully.”

  I have no idea if he’s purposely being cheesy or if this man is this meticulous, but he slowly unbuttons every tiny button on the front of my shirt.

  And there are a lot of buttons.

  He helps me sit up and gently slips the shirt from my shoulders, leaving me clad in my white spaghetti-
strapped top. I’m still craving the feel of his lips and start to lie back down, but stop when he takes my shirt and leaves the bed.

  He drapes my shirt on the chair by the bathroom door, I lose sight of him as he enters the bathroom. But he’s only gone for a moment and when he reappears, he’s carrying a bottle of lotion.

  Aloe lotion.

  “Your job is to keep your hair in check.” He squeezes lotion onto his palm.

  With a touch I wouldn’t have imagined being so soft, he rubs the aloe into my skin. Stephen is not only healing my burnt skin, he has no idea the mending he’s doing in my heart.

  “All done.” I release my hair as he places the lotion bottle next to my sketch pad. I have no idea where my pencil is. I’ll probably step on it tomorrow morning.

  “Now, where were we?” he asks as he leans into me. I lie down, and as I feel the softness of the bed beneath me, I feel him kissing me. A long, luxurious kiss, the likes of which I never experienced before.

  My fingers play in his hair, not wanting these moments to end.

  Our kiss ends from need. A need to breathe. He stares at me, and I know I’ll always see stars when I see his blue eyes. I’ll remember what he said about God knowing the names of all the stars.

  About how his mother said God knew Stephen’s wife’s name was Jenny.

  How can we defy God?

  Of course she only said those things because she thinks we’re getting married. I wonder if she’ll tell the same story to the woman Stephen will eventually marry?

  “Cheetah.” He breathes my name softly. “You drive me insane.”

  I laugh. “I’m not exactly cool, calm and collected, here. See how fast my heart is beating?” I place his hand over my heart, a dangerous move I realize, but I’m in a dangerous mood.

  He’s very careful, too careful, in keeping his hand in the center of my chest, away from the more intimate parts of my body.

  I wonder at this.

  We’re adults. I’m sure he’s been in this type of situation before. I never thought I’d be in this situation again.

  “My heart is beating just as fast.” His gaze never leaves mine, but his hand leaves my heart and he wraps me in his arms.

  “Not fast enough, apparently.”

  “There are two things you need to know.” He kisses me.

  “When we make love, one, we’ll be married.” He kisses me again. “Two, it will be because you love me, not because you want to feel like you’re not ugly.”

  His words take my breath away.

  Because I want to feel his skin against mine.

  Because I want to know everything I can about this man.

  Because he said when, not if.

  BEDLAM

  IT’S THE BIG day.

  The wedding day.

  Ann and Brett are getting married in about one hour.

  Since Stephen’s declaration the other night, I’ve done a good job avoiding him. I feel out of sorts. I venture out in the main parts of the house when he’s gone. Otherwise I stay in my room, unless Phoebe is around. She’s a great buffer.

  The positive result of my avoiding him is that I’ve come up with some great designs. My creativity seems to spark when I’m highly agitated, moved, or flat-out upset.

  Which is bad for me but good for designs.

  The avoiding-of-Stephen-Day is about to come to an end, though. Yes, the happily engaged Jenny and Stephen are about to attend a wedding, the wedding which will trigger our breakup.

  It will be interesting to see if anything happens that can fuel my reasoning, or if we fall back on the “I’m afraid of really committing” aspect.

  Since we have to take Phoebe to her caroling party tomorrow night the big breakup won’t happen until Sunday.

  Then I really don’t know what will happen.

  All I do know is that my heart is sad.

  I have to admit I’ve fallen for Stephen.

  Who hasn’t fallen for me.

  But, I have to act bright and shiny, like my ring, while we are around people for the next two days.

  Phoebe and I haven’t made any progress on the Princess Bea story. I think I’ve used all my creative juices sketching clothing and accessories onto paper. Phoebe has been understanding, and I promised her we would add to the story tonight. Though we need to finish it up in the next couple of days, because her mom is coming home. I know Phoebe will be in the wedding kind of mood after tonight’s festivities.

  Stephen is pretty sure Teresa is coming home Tuesday, Christmas Eve. After Phoebe leaves, there’ll be no reason for me to stay.

  So, I’ll leave.

  I’ve already made reservations at a hotel not far from here. I’ll stay there for only couple of days because dipping into the design budget isn’t smart. Hopefully I can regroup once again, then move on.

  Back to New York after the holidays.

  Back to the cold.

  Back to life without Stephen.

  But hopefully a life with a new career. Although that’s not looking too promising.

  My sunburn is gone, only lasting a day. But now my arms have a slight color to them, a contrast to the rest of my body. I feel like nothing about me is in sync right now. Everything is off kilter.

  And I don’t like it. At all.

  I’ve worked so hard to be at the place I am in life. And to have it taken from me without warning has created havoc like I never imagined.

  Stephen can upload and send me the photos we have of Ann, but since we didn’t have an opportunity to take any more, I’m not sure I’ll have more than a couple of photos to send to Dominick.

  And I need a better chance than that.

  At least I had the chance to photograph Ann in the dress.

  And now I will watch her marry her love in the dress.

  I slip my earrings in my ear, spray my hair a final time and decide this is good as it’s going to get.

  Ever.

  Imperfect face.

  Hurt heart.

  Jenny Harris.

  A knock on my door pulls me out of wallowing in self-pity. I promised to help Phoebe as soon as I got ready, so I open the door and look down, expecting to see a little girl.

  Instead, I’m looking at a very expensive pair of dress shoes, which are being worn by Stephen.

  As I pull my gaze up I have to rely on what inner strength I have to act cool and nonchalant. Every woman at this wedding will be shooting me looks because they think he’s mine.

  If only they knew.

  Stephen reaches out, taking my left hand in his. “Still wearing the ring?” he asks.

  “I am.” Does the man think I would ditch the gorgeous diamond one minute before I have to?

  “Good. Are you ready to be the happy couple once again?”

  We’ve crossed so many lines in this lie I don’t have a choice but to be ready. “I am. I have to help Phoebe with her hair.”

  “All right. Roger and Celine popped in to say hello, but I told them you were still getting ready. I’ll meet you in the kitchen in a few minutes, and we’ll head out.”

  I did forget we would be seeing more of his family today. I’m surprised his mom and dad haven’t shown up here these last couple of days. “Okay.”

  I turn and pick up my clutch off the bed. It’s a good thing I brought a couple of just-in-case outfits. I thought I might have some networking opportunities and wanted to have something on hand. I never thought I’d be attending a wedding in my party attire.

  After insisting to Phoebe that I’m wearing my hair down, so she can too, I maneuver my way out of doing an updo.

  “Would Princess Bea be wearing her hair down at a wedding?” she asks.

  “Yes, actually she would. Back in those days the girls weren’t allowed to wear their hair up unless they were married. So, since you aren’t married, you are perfectly fine.”

  She laughs. “Miss Jenny. I’m too little to get married.”

  “I know, silly girl.”

  “So is that w
hy you are wearing your hair down? Because you and Mr. Stephen aren’t married yet?”

  “Yes, that’s why.” I try not to laugh at the complicated mess that Stephen and I are.

  “Can I have some hairspray on my hair? Just a little? Please?”

  Unable to say no to this child, I tell her to stay put. I go to my bathroom and grab my hairspray.

  I lightly dust some hairspray on her hair. “That smells good.”

  “It does have a good fruity smell, doesn’t it?” I ask.

  “Now I can smell like you.” She gives me a hug, which consists of her wrapping her arms around my legs.

  “You’re sweet.” I bend down so I can hug her. Not an easy feat in these shoes.

  “I wanna be just like you when I grow up,” she says.

  I stiffen and I hope she doesn’t notice. “You need to be just like yourself. There’s nobody like you. Don’t you forget it.”

  “But I can tell you’re glamorous. Like Princess Bea is glamorous. I wanna be glamorous, too.”

  I tilt her chin up. “You’ve got so much Phoebe glam. Why do you think that girl invited you to her caroling party tomorrow night?”

  Now she stiffens and I do notice. “I don’t know.”

  I feel bad at bringing up the party. She had seemed so excited about it, but in the last couple of days, her excitement had been waning. “Well, tonight we have another party. See, you are quite the party girl. Very glamorous.”

  She smiles at my remark. I stand and hold her hand. This time she doesn’t protest or let go.

  We meet Stephen in the kitchen.

  “Wow,” he says. “You ladies are looking great. Phoebe, nice dress.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Stephen.”

  “Let’s go.” He motions for us to go before him, and we all walk to the front door. With all the finesse of the gentleman that he is, he scoots around me and opens the front door for us.

  Phoebe and I are still holding hands and continue to do so down the driveway. The December air is warm, and I have to keep reminding myself it’s only a few days before Christmas. Somehow, after all the years spent north, Christmas never seems right in these warmer temperatures.

  But since this is an outdoor wedding I am thankful for the warm weather.

  A small crowd is gathering in the cul de sac. White chairs are set up, and I spot a flutist playing music.